


It Is Written

by Anyaparadox



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst and Romance, Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Gen, Set during the Prison days, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-28
Updated: 2018-06-26
Packaged: 2019-04-14 00:50:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 20,135
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14124552
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anyaparadox/pseuds/Anyaparadox
Summary: It is common knowledge that the easiest way to tell if someone is your soulmate is to lay a bare finger on their skin. The smallest hint of skin to skin contact, and what feels like pure electricity will race through your veins. It only happens when you come into contact with your soulmate, and is only supposed to happen once in your life. There are always exceptions to the rule.OR: When Daryl grabs Carol to stop her from running to a long-dead Sophia, he feels the lightning and knows Carol is his soulmate. She doesn't feel it.





	1. a conduit

**Author's Note:**

> As a general warning, I don't really watch The Walking Dead anymore. This is set in the Prison and kind of takes off from there as an AU style. It's got some seriously romantic poetic sappy writing and I have no regrets.

It is common knowledge that the easiest way to tell if someone is your soulmate is to lay a bare finger on their skin. The smallest hint of skin to skin contact, and what feels like pure electricity will race through your veins. It only happens when you come into contact with your soulmate, and is only supposed to happen once in your life. There are always exceptions to the rule. 

It had happened for Rick the instant he had laid his hand on Lori's wrist, gentle and patient. All he had wanted was for her to look at him, and maybe he could ask her for coffee, even though he was wearing his cop uniform, getting ready for the academy training. The woman in front of him was stunning. Her dark hair curled wildly over her shoulders, and Rick had never seen anyone with such intense eyes.

He had rested his palm for the briefest moment on hers, stealing her attention away from the groceries in front of her. Instead of a brief conversation, Rick was hit with a pure shock of electricity to his veins, and the woman's back went ramrod straight as she whirled on him.

That was the first time Rick had touched his soulmate, but it wasn't the last.

It had happened again the moment Carl had latched onto his finger, squalling and pink. Rick had felt lightning bolt through him like he’d never experienced before, and he’d stared up at Lori, sweaty and disheveled. She hadn’t felt it, but she was still glowing like the brightest sun, staring down at their baby boy.

Two soulmates: a wife and a son.

 

* * *

  


The system isn't perfect. Shane had been Rick's best friend for four years before he had ever touched Lori's skin. He had been helping her into the back seat of the squad car, still in his uniform. Rick was in the front, scribbling on some case notes. Shane had laid his palm on the back of Lori's neck, urging her not to bump her head as he had done with a thousand people before her.

The electricity jolted down his skin before he could think and Lori whirled around to face him. This time, there was horror in her eyes and wonder in Shane's. There were stories of course, of people who had two soulmates, or even more. Rick had said that Carl had been his soulmate the same as Lori, and though uncommon, it wasn’t unheard of.

Some people had a best friend who was their soulmate, but Shane had always been compelling to her in a totally different way. Lori stared in his eyes from the back seat and forced her world to go quiet, only Rick’s scribbling on a notebook making a sound. She shook her head silently and Shane’s eyes went dark.

She shut the door without a word, and they never spoke of it, not even after the world went to shit.

  


* * *

 

For Glenn, he had known before he even touched Maggie. It was easy to tell -- her eyes were the most beautiful thing he had ever seen in his life, and he knew that even if the telltale flinch didn't happen when he set his skin on hers, he would love her for the rest of his life, however long it would be.

Of course, the minute he kissed her in the pharmacy, they both felt it.

Maggie had pulled back incredulously, "You?" she had whispered.

Glenn had smiled, "Me."

It took them a while, but some things were meant to be.

  


* * *

 

Carol had never felt the spark before; she didn't believe she was capable of it. With Ed she had felt nothing except a low pulse of disgust and a large burden of expectation on her. Her parents had wanted her married off as quickly as they could, and when she fell pregnant it was an easy excuse to hand her off to another person too quick to raise his fist.

Every time Ed had pushed her around the only thing she had felt was fury; she curled around her rounded stomach and pressed every inch of love she had into the being growing inside of her. 

Sophia was the truest love of her life, though, and Carol had never wanted anything more. 

  


* * *

 

Carol has never been a hateful woman, not even towards Ed, not until he was dead and gone and she picked up that ax. Still, when Daryl snaps his arms around her like a band of steel, she hates him for it. All she can think about is Sophia: her face, her gnarled hair, and dead eyes. She's never felt so buried in death and horror in all of her life, and she wants it to be over.

Carol has never wanted to die before, but she's also never watched her dead daughter walk out of a barn.

She screams and fights, but Daryl holds on tightly, snatching at her arms and stomach painfully. Carol, for all her fury and rage, doesn't entirely blame him. She wishes he would let her go so she could run to Sophia, let her daughter's teeth sink into her and take her into oblivion, but she doesn't _blame_ him.

Carol also doesn't feel the way that Daryl flinches when his bare hands snap onto her skin. She thinks it's just sadness that makes him sink to the ground with her in his arms. He had tried just as hard to find her daughter, and Carol wouldn't blame him for a second for wanting to lie in the dirt and die as the gunshot rings out. Her entire body feels numb like she is just watching herself from a distance, not actually a part of anything that is happening.

By the time they get her off the ground, Daryl stalks away and Carol is in no mind to stop him.

  


* * *

 

"You don't understand," Daryl snarls at Rick, "it's stupid."

Rick frowns, "Daryl, you won't talk to us, you won't eat with us. You won't even speak to Carol anymore!"

Daryl wants to rip out his own hair at the mention of her name. It's obvious now, the way he had always watched after her and taken care of her whenever he thought she needed it. The way he had been so desperate and dead set on finding that daughter of hers.

Of course, he would feel the need to help his soulmate. 

Daryl wants to kill something; Merle would be laughing his goddamn ass off right now if he was here. Daryl wouldn't even blame him, he would have laughed if the roles were reversed as well.

"I don't wanna speak to 'er," Daryl snaps, "We all got our own shit. I'm goin' hunting."

Rick doesn't stop him, but his eyes trail over Lori's frail form, skin and bones with her stomach starting to stretch in front of her. He can't afford for Daryl not to hunt, and they both know it. Rick says nothing when he walks away.

  


* * *

 

She tries to apologize to him, and Daryl nearly shoves her. He wants her to get the fuck away from him, but he also wants her by him. He feels torn apart inside his own skin, and Daryl’s never felt like that before. He knows who he is; he might not always like it, but he’s sure of it and has been since he was six years old and had to grow the fuck up.

The horses are edgy at their confrontation.

"Fuck you, lady," Daryl says, but he still makes sure he gets close enough to touch her skin once again. Maybe it was only him -- maybe she was his soulmate, but he wasn't hers?

Nothing. Nothing the second time for him either. 

Maybe it was just all some fucking cosmic joke.

  


* * *

 

  


It all changes, after the farm goes up in flames. Carol has been coming back into herself. Daryl is still angry, but not at Carol. He’s angry at the world, but he can't blame Carol for the fact that she didn't feel the electricity the way he did.It's not her fault she's his perfect match, and he's a piece of shit. He pulls her on the back of his bike and vows to protect her better than he ever did her daughter.

They're inseparable after that, and it's almost like he has a soulmate. They eat together, and Carol always watches out after him when he’s gone hunting, making sure there’s some semblance of dinner when he comes back.

Daryl’s not even sure if he needs more. Carol is perfect and kind, and she always treats him with respect, even before the rest of the group started to realize he deserved respect too. Daryl is angrier at her piece of shit ex-dead-husband than he’s ever been when he thinks about the fact that _Ed_ managed to get a woman like Carol. No one deserves her.

 

* * *

 

When they reach the prison Daryl knows that it's somewhere they could stay, somewhere they could be safe. They clear it out, day by day, and Daryl fights with every thought of Carol in his mind. She's bantering with him now, coming more out of her shell every day. Sophia still lingers between them, but it's no longer a festering wound. Sometimes Carol shares stories and secrets about her daughter in the silence between them, and Daryl listens. Sophia's become something that is Carol's, always Carol's, but she shares her with Daryl. Daryl wishes he would have found her, because he loves her now, even without truly knowing her.

Sometimes, they do shifts taking watch in the guard towers together. Those are Daryl’s favourite days, even more than the days he goes beyond the fences and spends time amongst the trees. He loves nature, has always been more comfortable under the sky than inside walls, but Carol’s presence could make him change his mind.

She’ll tease him, but it’s not mean, and Daryl likes the way she flirts with him, even if all he knows how to say is ‘stop’. He doesn’t want her to stop. He doesn’t ever want her to stop.

During the days they’ll kill off the walkers around the fence, thinning the herd until it’s manageable. It’s a never-ending battle, but it’s a necessary one. 

Carol is strong, unexpectedly, perhaps. Daryl has always suspected she has a core of steel; he remembers the way she had lifted the pickaxe up in her skinny arms and clobbered her dead husband until he was nothing but blood and flesh and bad memories. He has seen her pick herself up after Sophia died; Carol had been robbed of the only light in her life with her little girl's death, and yet she still managed to go on.

He knows what she is because he recognizes it in himself. She's a survivor. Merle also had the same fire in his eyes even when they were younger, still living under their asshole of a father’s roof. Merle didn’t know how to quit; he didn’t know when to stop talking, stop fighting, stop drinking. Daryl never fell into all that shit, but he’s the same and he knows it. 

 

* * *

 

He proves it a week later when Carol goes missing without a word, and Daryl just about loses his damn mind. It’s even worse than with Sophia, he’s so obsessed with finding her. It’s an ache inside him that he's never felt before, and he wonders if this is what she felt like with Sophia out in the woods. He tears the prison apart, cell by cell, block by block. The others help, they want her back, too. Daryl doesn't stop. He goes out on his own, ignoring every word the rest have to say.

"It won't help her if you don't come back, Daryl.” Rick’s eyes, so tired after Lori’s death, are haunted. Even Judith and Carl can barely bring the man a smile these days.

"It won't help her if I don't fuckin' look, Rick. So help me, or get outta my way." Daryl growls. 

He's angry in a way the group hasn't seen since they left Merle on the roof. He snaps and snarls, and not even Lil Asskicker can calm him. He wants to start talking with his fists, but these people are his _family_ , more than Merle ever was, and Daryl is many things, but he isn’t his old man.

It takes nearly a week of searching, and Daryl is running on so little food and sleep he thinks he’s hallucinating when a door won’t stop tapping against its frame. He slides to the floor because he’s having a vision of Carol stumbling out of the door the same way Sophia did, and he can’t handle that. Daryl realizes in that instant how much Carol must have hated him for forcing her to stay away and survive after her whole world had ended.

It makes him angry enough that he swings the door open, furious, and ready to kill. It doesn’t even register for a moment when he sees her curled up in the corner of the closet, knife clutched in her limp fingers. She glances at him, delirious, and he just about cries. Daryl hasn't cried since he was thirteen and a fool. He rushes to pick her up and snuggles her close, relishing in the skin of her arms and face pressing into his.

"Daryl," she breathes, "I knew you'd find me."

He wonders if she even knows what she’s saying, but it's still about the best damn thing anybody has ever said to him

  


* * *

 

She moves into his cell when Merle finds his way back to them. Daryl’s not sure what to think; he’s glad his brother is okay, but he had a good thing going at the prison. Merle is full of fury and survival instinct, and Daryl would like to say he doesn't know the feeling, but he spent long enough outside the prison walls to remember what that felt like. He actually thinks Merle might just respect him a little more, now. 

Daryl knows Merle is bad news, but he also doesn’t want to watch his brother disappear again. He’s said it since the beginning, the only thing that can kill Merle is Merle, and self-destructive is one of Merle’s more damaging traits.

Daryl is brooding on the bottom bunk in his cell, spinning a crossbow bolt over his knuckles as he thinks. He can hear Lil Asskicker being shushed by Beth’s quiet voice in the main area, and quiet footsteps headed towards his room. He knows the sound of Carol’s feet these days, so he doesn’t bother getting up from his bed.

Carol waltzes in the door with a small backpack over her shoulder and a plastic bag in the other hand. She drops both on the opposite side of the wall, pulls her knife off her belt and tosses it up to the top bunk.

She glances at him as if to see what he thinks of all this, so Daryl just raises a brow. She half-shrugs and says, “Can't sleep with the baby.”

He doesn’t protest, and Carol clambers up to the top bunk and settles in. It’s a load of shit; Carol hasn’t slept well since before the world went to shit, and a baby wouldn’t be the reason she was staying awake. Daryl’s happy to be lied to because it’s easier for him to sleep with Carol’s soft breathing echoing in the bunk above his.

Merle stays downstairs in his cell where he is confined, and he mostly keeps his comments to himself. For a while.

  


* * *

 

"Well, lil brother, I see you went and got yourself shacked up real nice," Merle drawls. Daryl is sitting across from him in Merle's cell, holding his crossbow. He doesn't have any bolts in here, he's just polishing and tuning it up. Merle is resting his head against the cement wall and looks to have no cares in the whole world. It’s a practiced art, from many years of gambling and hustling; Merle doesn’t have to look focused to see everything in the room.

"You don't know nothin' bout it," Daryl murmurs, keeping his eyes glued to his crossbow. He’s never been good at lying, not the way Merle is, so he usually keeps quiet.

Merle chuckles, slitting his eyes open to watch his little brother, "She's a feisty one. Came in here and near took off my head that first day I got back."

Daryl pauses in his work for a fraction of a second, but it's too long. Merle notices everything.

"Ah! So you didn't know that, did ya, little brother?" Merle is smug, "she came in here and threatened me over you. It's obvious ya got a crush on her, too."

Daryl stays silent, even though he wants to scoff. A crush? Daryl wants to paint her name in the stars, wants to bring her the head of everyone who has ever wronged her. 

Merle must read it in his expression. Everyone always says Daryl is hard to read, but not for Merle. He’s been an open book for his older brother since he was a child.

"Ho--ly shit," Merle caws, "you fuckin' love 'er!"

"Shut yer damn mouth," Daryl snaps, "I ain't said no such thing."

Merle laughs, loudly, and Daryl can feel his ears turning red at the thought that the others are just short distances away.

"You didn't have to, Darlina," Merle grins, "but you know she already had a soulmate."

"That piece of shit wasn't her soulmate," Daryl grits out.

Merle nods, suddenly sober, "Sure. But neither are you, are ya?"

Daryl drops his crossbow to the table with a crash before he throws himself to his feet and marches out the door. He slams the cell shut on the way, feeling foolish. Merle's laugh taunts him all the way out of the prison walls, even as he climbs the guard tower as far from Merle as he can get.

When he steps onto the top level of the tower he’s out of breath and still furious. Maggie is sitting by the window, alone. Daryl approaches loudly so he doesn't scare her, and he sits across from her, content to be silent and cool off. Maggie keeps her eyes on the window, watching for danger. 

It takes her a long time to break their silence, and by the time she does Daryl’s heartbeat is almost back to a normal rhythm.

"You know," Maggie starts, "I know you're not much on talking, but I would recommend choosing someone other than your brother to start with."

Daryl rolls his eyes, "I didn't choose to talk to 'im! He jus' knows how to get me mad."

Maggie smirks, "That's usually what siblings do." Her eyes soften as she glances down at the fields, where Beth is talking to Herschel, Glenn standing nearby. Her little family, all in a tidy circle.

"You know, Daryl, I can keep a secret," Maggie says.

Daryl scoffs, "Sure."

Maggie grins, "We all know Glenn can't keep his damn mouth shut. But I promise I could."

Daryl ignores her for a moment and stares down at the field again, where most of the group is working away. He spots Carol holding Judith, and talking with Carl. It seems that even so far away he can always find her as if an invisible force connects them.

He supposes, in a way, it does.

"She's my soulmate," Daryl says.

He doesn't mean to say the words, but he's not filled with regret after. Everyone knows Maggie and Glenn are soulmates, and she's as good as anyone else to talk to. Daryl doesn’t really have anyone else to talk to — besides Carol herself.

Maggie's reply is a long time coming, "She's yours? And are you--"

"No." Daryl snaps quickly. He doesn’t want to hear anyone say the words again _you’re not hers_.

Maggie sighs, "I'm sorry to hear that, Daryl."

They sit in silence for a long time, watching their friends meander around the field, walkers milling about at the fence, mostly abated for the time being. Daryl wonders at their longevity here, if they could build a life and a family and be safe. Rick has been talking about farming, about creating a community and finding other survivors. Daryl knows it’s what he wants since Lori’s death: to create a place where Carl and Judith can be raised with some semblance of safety.

"You know," Maggie starts softly, "I always hated when people told stories that were hopeful when I felt like shit, but I'm still gonna do it to you. My mom and my dad loved each other more than anything on this green earth, and even my dad will tell you to this day that that is God's honest truth. And you know what, Daryl? They weren't soulmates. Dad met his soulmate when he was nine, and he hated her. He met my mom eight years later, and he never looked back. Mom never met her real soulmate. They were happy."

"That's real nice for them," Daryl muttered.

Maggie stood up, "Yeah, yeah. And I'm not saying you have to, but have you said anything to Carol? She obviously cares for you. Maybe she loves you, too. You don’t have to be someone’s soulmate to be the love of their life.”

Maggie leaves after that, knowing she is unwelcome. Daryl almost misses her.

 

* * *

 

It all comes to a head about three weeks later. Merle has been let out of the cell for longer periods now, but everyone is still wary of him. Daryl hangs around him most of the time, not wanting anyone else to be responsible for his brother. Sometimes Carol comes with him, but most of the time she avoids Merle like the plague. Daryl doesn't blame her, he'd probably do the same if Merle wasn't his brother.

They've been clearing the last of the prison block, and Rick has been talking about going out to see if there are any other pockets of survivors left outside of their walls. They're talking about rebuilding, going forward. 

Daryl ignores it all until Glenn comes back from a run with four new people. Tyreese is tough as nails, and Daryl wouldn't want to see who would win in a fight between Tyreese and Merle. His sister Sasha is just as tough but much friendlier. 

Daryl doesn't mind them — they're good enough people, and they're happy to have a place that is free from walkers. Rick trusts them too quickly, as he is bound to do, but Daryl figures they're probably trustworthy when he sees the way they look at baby Judith. Tyreese damn near cries the first time he sees her, and Daryl doesn't quite understand why until Sasha chokes out "we haven't seen a baby since all this started. Didn't think there _were_ any more babies."

He likes them more, after that. Lil Asskicker is a goddamn miracle, and anyone who can see that is alright in his books.

Carol likes them, too. She spends time finding clothes for Sasha from their stockpile from all their runs. Daryl walks by as Carol is laughing at something Sasha says, and he finds himself simultaneously jealous that someone can make her laugh like that, and in awe of the way she sounds so carefree.

That night, curled in his bed he says, "What was so funny today?"

Carol sighs happily, as if it's a good memory for her, "Oh, we were talking about things before. She's nice."

Daryl grunts, "She's alright."

"Tyreese seems nice, too," Carol answers, "I think they'll fit in well with us. I hope they stay."

It's those words: I hope they stay I hope they stay I hope they stay; they float around in Daryl's head long after Carol's started up her little snoring in the night. It's stupid, and Daryl knows it, but he doesn't like the way Carol said it. He doesn't like that Tyreese sees Carol the same way he does; she's strong, beautiful, safe. She's kind. She's good.

In the morning he's sitting on his bed with his crossbow in hand. He's got his vest on and a bag beside him full of rations. Carol clambers down to her feet, takes one look at him and sighs.

"You aren't going out there alone again, are you?"

Daryl frowns. He hadn't really thought she'd call him out on it. "I guess not. I'll take Merle."

Carol rolls her eyes, "Oh good. Because Merle is likely to bring you back in one solid piece."

Daryl stands and scowls at her, “Merle’s got my back. He's an asshole, but he's been watchin' after me long 'fore all of this happened."

Carol nods, but her blue eyes don't leave his. She steps up and puts a hand out, resting it gently over his heart, the pads of her fingertips brushing against the skin of his collarbone. For a second Daryl's heart stops, waiting for the shock of electricity. 

It doesn't come. 

"Be safe," Carol says, before pulling her hand away and walking out the door. Daryl feels like she took his heart with her.

  


* * *

  


He's deep in the woods with Merle behind him, stepping carefully over dried out sticks. They're silent together, communicating with glances and hand motions. Daryl may not always like Merle, but they've been hunting since they were boys, and there's no one he trusts more in the woods. They move like they're one person.

They take down a buck, the first one they've seen in months. Its antlers are just coming in, and they’re not huge. Once upon a time Daryl probably would have let it go, have another year to grow and fatten before he killed it. He doesn’t have that kind of luxury now. They tie it up over Daryl's back and start marching back towards the prison. Daryl is in high spirits, the weight of the deer on his back reminding him that his family will eat this week, because of him.

The fence is in sight when Merle stops, and Daryl glances at him. Merle looks as though he's been thinking hard, the lines in his face carved deep and painful.

"You remember Andrea?" Merle starts, his voice softer than Daryl's ever heard it. Even when Merle is quiet, his voice is never gentle, not like it is right now.

"Yeah?" Daryl grunts, "Blondie. She shot me once."

Merle huffs a semblance of a laugh. "The first time I touched her I felt it."

It takes Daryl an embarrassing amount of time before he connects the dots, and when he does he nearly falls on his ass. Merle and Andrea?

"What?!" Is all he manages to spit out.

"Back at camp, when all this started. I pushed past her for some shit. Don't remember what. Near fell over from the shock of it. Like puttin' my finger in a socket but not painful."

Daryl can feel his mouth hanging open, an expression he doesn't think he's ever worn before, "Did she feel it too?"

Merle shrugs, "Nope. But I asked her, once, about if she had a soulmate or not."

Curiosity is eating Daryl alive, thinking about the fact that both he and his brother had soulmates who didn't have the same connection back, "Did she?"

Merle's eyes go soft, "Ya. She said she felt the shock the first time her baby sister grabbed her finger when she was jus' a little girl. When that girl died back at camp, I felt part o' myself die with Andrea. Most god-awful thing I've ever felt."

"Siblings can be soulmates?"

Merle shrugged, "Yeah, 'course. Soulmates don't just mean romantic shit. Could be parents, siblings, cousins. Best friends."

"So why didn't you come back, after you got free," Daryl pointedly doesn't look at Merle's missing hand, "if you had Andrea back at camp?"

There's silence between them for a moment, space where the words Daryl is thinking hang between them -- if it had been him and Carol, Daryl never would have left her alone.

Merle sighs, "She wasn't mine, Daryl. I was hers, and she was her sisters. I didn' wan’ her to die,  but more than that, I didn' wanna watch her die.”

“What if you coulda saved her?” Daryl asks, voice soft. He’s not angry — it’s not Merle’s fault Andrea d ied.

Merle starts walking again, “I dunno, Darlina. I jus’ don’t know.”

The gate opens for them when Merle reaches it, and Daryl hauls the deer across the threshold, still staring at his brother’s back.

 

* * *

 

The mood is celebratory when Daryl returns with the buck in tow, but he isn’t in any type of state to join the crew. Rick grins and claps him hard on the shoulder when he sees all the food they’ll have for a while, and he even shakes Merle’s hand. Merle hasn’t said a word since they got within the prison walls, and even now he goes back in his cell without comment. 

Daryl climbs the stairs up to his room and finds Carol curled up on his bunk, sound asleep. He pulls the sheet they had hung across the cell doors closed as a makeshift door, and quietly settles his gear into its regular spot on the floor. He pulls out a cleaner shirt and checks that Carol’s still asleep before he quickly slips off his old one to pull on the new. No point being covered in deer blood now that he’s home.

_home._

It’s a word Daryl’s never really had before — he has said it, of course, referring to their old man’s shack in the woods where he grew up. Still, homes are safe, and that place had never been safe. Even now, the prison isn’t _safe_ , nowhere is anymore, what with flesh-eating monsters running around outside their gates. Still… it’s secure, and it’s filled with people Daryl trusts, which is more than he’s ever had before.

Daryl heads outside without waking Carol, but not before tugging his blankets further over her shoulder, letting her nestle back into the warmth of sleep she needed. He goes to the guard tower because it’s second nature now to be there when he wants to think quietly.

Maggie is already up there, sitting idly and watching the entrance, doing her job at her post.

“Hey,” she drawls, “saw you come back with Merle. Looks like you got a good haul with that buck. Thanks.”

Daryl grunts and Maggie doesn’t say anything further. They sit together in silence, and Daryl starts to think that Maggie might be his second favourite person on this compound, the way she allows him his space.

“Can I ask ya a question?” Daryl’s voice is raspy, and he hardly meant to even say anything at all, but now the words are out there.

“Of course.”

Daryl breathes, long and slow. Minutes go by before he forces his words, “If Glenn hadn’t — I mean if you hadn’t…”

Maggie cuts him off, saving both of them time and embarrassment. “The first time I felt the electricity was when I kissed him. I didn’t know he was my soulmate when I decided I wanted to do that. It all came after.”

“First time?”

Maggie looks at him, “Soulmates always feel the electricity, Daryl. It doesn’t just go away.”

Daryl doesn’t reply, and he leaves shortly after feeling no less confused than he was when he got there.

 


	2. a spark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Carol smiles, and it’s a small serious thing that Daryl’s never seen before. He likes her smile. She stands and opens the door but turns back before she leaves, “I’m glad you’re back.”
> 
> Daryl cannot respond, but he can feel the echo of her words brand themselves into his bones, like centuries of waves lapping against a rock, like the stillness of the air before thunder rocks into it, like lightning striking a forest again and again until it finally burns.
> 
> Perhaps this is what Maggie meant.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all your patience! As always, please comment or leave kudos if you enjoy, or find me on tumblr :)

Carol isn’t sleeping when he gets back, but she also hasn’t moved from her spot curled in his bunk. She’s got a book in front of her nose, but doesn’t startle when he swings open the cell door and curtain combo and sets two plates down on the small nightside table.

“You’re back,” Carol says, gently placing the book down after slipping a small paper between the pages. He’s always liked how she does that — she never dog-ears any pages, or lays books so their spines bend out like broken things.

“Found a buck with Merle,” he rasps, “should keep us fed for a bit.”

She smiles, sitting up a bit, the blanket he pulled over her falling from her shoulders, “That’s great. I’m sorry I didn’t wake up earlier, I didn’t even hear you come in.”

Daryl hands her the plate of food he grabbed for her and sits down beside her on his bunk, “S’okay, I was quiet. Eat yer food.”

Carol digs in with relish and they’re silent for a while. She finishes before him and slips out of bed to take his plate. For an instant their hands touch, and Daryl waits for the strike of lightning like before but it’s not there.

“Sorry I was sleeping in your bed.” Carol murmurs, eyes twinkling with good humour. She’s a shameless flirt, some days.

Daryl opts for serious, “It’s fine. You can use it.”

Carol smiles, and it’s a small serious thing that Daryl’s never seen before. He likes her smile. She stands and opens the door but turns back before she leaves, “I’m glad you’re back.”

Daryl cannot respond, but he can feel the echo of her words brand themselves into his bones, like centuries of waves lapping against a rock, like the stillness of the air before thunder rocks into it, like lightning striking a forest again and again until it finally burns.

Perhaps this is what Maggie meant.

 

* * *

 

Merle disappears the same way he had arrived: without preamble, quietly in the night, and without any sign to whether or not it was a good thing. Rick turns the prison and the nearby woods apart searching for him and tracking him, but Daryl isn’t worried.

The only thing that can kill Merle is Merle.

The cell is left open, no supplies in it, and the basic amount of rations gone from their stores. All in all, it’s a fair trade-off. 

Rick asks, over and over, “Do you know where he is? Where he went?”

Daryl’s not sure, and he says as much, until one night he’s laying in his bunk and he can feel the air above his bed move with every breath Carol takes. It feels as though the world is revolving around the way her gentle snores release into the cell, and the crinkle of the sheets as she turns.

Daryl slips out quietly and finds Rick holding Judith gently, rocking her back and forth in the common area. He sits down nearby and stares into the sleeping face of the baby, one who is growing rapidly, who is healthy and happy. Maybe the last one left.

“Merle woulda gone back to the Quarry.” Daryl finally says, soft.

Rick eyes him, “There’s nothing left for him there.”

Daryl thinks of Andrea’s blue eyes for a moment, “No, there ain’t.”

Rick sighs heavily, “Do you want to go after him?”

“No,” Daryl says, “he’ll be back, eventually. Merle ain’t never been one to sit still.”

The two men sit in silent companionship until the prison starts to rouse around them, and when Beth appears and Lil Asskicker starts to complain, Daryl slips back upstairs and into his cell.

Carol is sleeping in his bed again, and Daryl is exhausted. He resolves to sleep in her bunk if she must have his, and pulls the blanket up to her shoulder once more, letting his fingers linger on the skin of her arm. She is soft; gentle in a way that is slowly becoming more rare in this world. Daryl wants to wrap every inch of her skin in his; it’s a carnal thought, but Daryl isn’t entirely sure that’s what he means. Slow currents move under her fingers, like the lightning from the day at the barn, but more solid. Finally, Daryl sees what Maggie was talking about.

Carol’s eyes open, blue and clear and perfect. 

“I thought you’d gone,” she murmurs, voice obstructed by sleep.

Daryl shakes his head, unwilling to dislodge his fingers from her shoulder for this brief moment in time. To touch her — to touch her is to know all of the meaning of the world.

“Jus’ talkin’ to Rick.” he says.

She moves her body back slowly, his fingers falling away from her. She flips the covers up and open, invitation clearly spread over his stupid scratchy blanket. Her eyes are careful and watchful, but not forcing.

“Lie with me.”

Daryl can hardly say no. He shrugs off his vest and slips under the covers. He’s not touching her, which is a feat in the small bunks of the jail cell. Carol has closed her eyes and is breathing deep, sparing him the awkwardness of the moment. Daryl isn’t sure what to do with his hands, bunched up around his chest.

It is her breathing that lulls him, eventually, to sink further into the pillow. 

He wakes slowly to the sound of people’s chatter and laughter, and Daryl thinks that maybe this is the nicest way he’s ever woken up. Carol’s back is to him, but one of his arms has snaked around her waist. He can feel the press of her skin through his fingertips, gently resting on her hip bones. 

He extricates himself gently, and when he finally pulls away Carol turns over. He wonders if she’s been awake the whole time, or if he woke her when he moved away. Her eyes blink sleepily at him, and she stretches.

“We’ve probably slept in enough, huh?” She asks, throwing the blankets back and pulling on a sweater. Daryl can only nod at her, not trusting himself to speak. “What’s on the agenda today?”

Daryl frowns, “Might help Rick in the fields.”

Carol nods, “Sounds good. I’ll be in the kitchen, Sasha and I are counting rations and trying to find a good system for storing foods.”

Daryl gives her a half-hearted wave as he stumbles out the door, feeling as lost as ever. 

 

* * *

 

He is gone longer than a day, in the end. Glenn approaches him with the closest Daryl has ever seen to panic in his gaze, and Daryl listens when he stumbles over words and anxiety. They are sequestered away, close to the fields where Rick is hoping to farm. No one is nearby to hear them.

“I need your help, man,” Glenn says, tripping over the words. “She’s pregnant. Maggie’s pregnant. We don’t have the prenatal vitamins we need, we barely have enough food or formula for Judith, and… after Lori…” Glenn’s voice chokes up and dies off.

Daryl is reluctantly impressed — Glenn, for all of the times both Daryl and his brother have insulted him, is both brave and independent. He has never asked for help before, and it means a lot that he would come to Daryl over this. 

“Get me a list within the hour and I’ll go,” Daryl says, “I won’t tell anyone, I’ll just say I’ve gone out huntin’.”

“I can come with you!” Glenn says, eager to prove himself and to help.

“No. And not ‘cause I think you can’t,” Daryl says, trying to reassure when he barely knows how, “but because yer place is here. Stay with Maggie.”

Glenn nods, decisive and sure. He will be a great dad, Daryl is sure of it. He’s a man made of loyalty and love, and this world has made him strong and brave. There’s nothing he can’t do — especially with Daryl wanting to help.

This world needs more babies.

 

* * *

 

He tells Rick in passing as he’s heading out that he’s going hunting. He promises him he’ll be careful, and that he’ll keep an eye out for anything strange. Tells him that he’ll be back within three days. None of these things feel like lies on his lips.

“Hey, Rick?” Daryl says, just as he’s about to leave.

Rick nods, chewing on his lips in a bad habit he hasn’t broken yet, “Yeah?”

Daryl hesitates only a second, “Tell Carol not to worry, yeah?”

He doesn’t wait for an answer before he slides into an old beater of a car that still runs, waving at Tyreese and Carl as they help open the gate and shut it behind him. Nobody questioned that he was taking a car on this hunting trip, not since he came home with such a big load last time.

It’s lonely, more than Daryl ever would have expected. He’s used to being alone, and he thrives when he’s under the sky with only his crossbow and his thoughts. Still, he misses Carol, and the scratchy blanket on his bunk, and the sound of Judith Grimes’ baby laugh.

He finds the first of the items at a pharmacy only a few dozen miles down the road. He kills eight walkers methodically, making sure everything is clear before he comes in and sweeps the place clean. He grabs vitamins and pregnancy tests and condoms and formula and diapers and thermometers and soothers. Daryl grabs shit he didn’t even know babies needed, and extra stuff he thought they might want. On his way out he stuffs two plush bears into his bag because kids always deserved at least one soft thing to sleep with. 

He spends the night pulled over into a gravel road, his gun in his hand with the safety on. He sleeps fitfully, every little sound driving him awake. He is on the road again before the sun graces the ground.

The car is rattling a little weirdly by the time Daryl finds the larger strip mall; it’s got clothes and food and appliances all in one neat little package, but he’d be a fool to go in charging.

He siphons fuel into his old car first, even before he kills any walkers, because Daryl has been stuck without an escape before, and he never makes the same mistake twice. He pulls up to the back loading dock area of the store and leaves the trunk open and ready. 

The clothing store is first, only because it had no movement in it’s windows when Daryl first looked. He only kills one walker in the entire time he’s inside, and he comes away with clothes for both a new baby and a toddler, and a few things for everyone else in the group as well. Clothes aren’t scarce in this new world, but the group always seems to have bloodstains and holes. They would be appreciated.

He picks out a soft grey sweater and two long sleeve tops with thumb holes, both shades of red. They aren’t totally practical, but Carol doesn’t own anything long sleeved except her jacket, and she deserves soft things.

The appliance store is the trickiest. He sinks his knife into walkers silently, bringing their reeking bodies to the floor as gently as possible. He’s formidable, but Daryl isn’t a fool — if he were to draw attention to himself there could be more enemies than even he could handle.

He kills sixteen of them, all said and done. He’s exhausted, bloody, sweaty, and nearly ready to drop. He loads in some boxed furniture that he personally finds ridiculous: a crib, a car seat, a change table. He covers all of the boxes in the trunk of the car with an old tarp because Glenn has asked for the utmost secrecy.

He does come across the softest navy blue blanket he’s ever felt and throws it into the front seat. He doesn’t let himself linger on the fact that he’s already thinking about how much better it will be than his regular scratchy blanket, and how much Carol will like it. Like it’s _their_ bed.

The food store is a bit of a bust. He gets some small canned goods that have been overlooked, but it’s obvious that people looted this area long ago. He heads out of the area with a good haul all told, and he knows Glenn will be happy for it. 

He spends another night pulled into the driveway of an old farmhouse. There are no living people for miles, and Daryl is somehow reminded of Herschel’s farm. He doesn’t miss those days, and he doesn’t sleep even one minute with the barn staring at him from across the field. 

He doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to look at a barn the same.

  

* * *

 

Daryl rolls into the prison when Glenn and Hershel are in charge of the door. He feels dead on his feet, exhaustion seeping into his bones. He hands the car keys over to Glenn after grabbing two bags out of the front seat. 

“It’s all yours, there’s a buncha stuff in the back seat and trunk, and the car needs a look, it’s rattlin’ bad,” Daryl says, voice grating from disuse. He holds up the bags he’s grabbed, “Got some clothes for everyone. Gonna take ‘em inside.”

Glenn nods and his eyes are grateful, “Thank you, Daryl. Thank you.”

Daryl saunters inside, clasping arms with Rick briefly. The man seems pleased he has returned in one piece, “Didn’t get much for food, Rick. Got a lot of clothes and stuff, though.”

Rick waves it away with a flick of his wrist, “Not to worry, Daryl. You’ve done a lot of good, and we’re all happy you’re back.”

Daryl sets the bags on the table in the common area of the prison, pulling out only one smaller bag inside. He turns to Beth who is holding Judith; it’s often only her in the common area during the day, doing her best to keep the baby happy and healthy.

“Beth, there’s some stuff in there for Lil’ Asskicker,” Daryl says, “and a few other things. Let everyone know to take a peek and grab what they like.”

Beth’s eyes shine for a second and she grabs for a giant bag. Daryl wonders if this is the closest she’ll ever get to shopping again. It’s a bit disheartening to think, but Beth seems thrilled, and she coos over the little outfits for Judith.

He’s climbing the stairs to his room tiredly and pulling back the curtain when he comes face to face with Carol. She’s furious, in a way he hasn’t seen in a long time. Her chest is heaving, and ire lights up her blue eyes. She’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.

“Daryl Dixon,” she hisses, stepping back into their room for a semblance of privacy, “how nice of you to _come home_.”

Daryl follows her into the room because he’s not sure what else to do, and it was _his_ room first, after all. He says nothing because he’s not entirely sure why Carol’s mad, and he’s never been much good at making people less mad anyway.

He does hand her the bag, though. She grabs it without thinking, brushing his fingers.

Carol’s eyes drift down to the bag, and it’s clear she’s torn between yelling at him more and seeing what it is he’s brought her.

Her decision is made when she shoves a hand into the bag and pulls out the navy blanket first. She rubs her fingers along it gently and smiles a little.

“It’s very nice,” she says, rage forgotten.

“Thought it might be nicer than tha’ one,” Daryl replies, gesturing half-heartedly to the scratchy half wool blanket they slept under the last time he saw her.

Carol lays it out gently on the bunk and appears perplexed, “Definitely softer.”

She pulls out the sweater and long-sleeved shirts next and touches them gently.

“They’re for you,” Daryl says, and then wants to sink into the ground because _of course_ , they were for her. He’s not used to talking and making a fool of himself, because he so rarely speaks. It’s not enjoyable.

“I love them,” Carol tells him.

Silence reigns while she slips the shirts into her pack. Daryl thinks for a moment about how both of them always have their bags ready to go, and the few drawers in the dresser in their room lay untouched. Unpacking never seemed like an option they could afford.

They are survivors.

Daryl sighs, breaking the silence, “I’m sorry? If I hurt yer feelings.”

Carol pinches the bridge of her nose and looks at him, “You didn’t hurt my feelings. I just didn’t like being left behind and out of the loop. I had no idea you were even leaving and I thought — ”

Y _ou thought I left you, too._ Daryl fills in the blank where her sentence trails off. He remembers wondering constantly where Merle was and when he’d be back. It hadn’t occurred to him that he’d done that to someone else, that sense of abandonment, of _not being enough._

“I’m sorry,” Daryl repeats, and it must be a record that he’s said it twice in one conversation, “I’ll tell you next time. It was just a rush job.”

Carol nods decisively, “Did you get everything you needed?”

Daryl smirks, “Of course.”

She laughs at his smugness, and all of her previous hurt is forgotten. She sits down on the new soft blanket and spreads her fingers over the fabric. She grins at the softness, and Daryl knows that he’ll remember this moment for however long he lives.

Daryl doesn’t mean to speak, but he can’t quite shut down the words before they pop out of his mouth, “Merle’s soulmate was Andrea.”

Carol’s mouth falls open, shocked in a way Daryl’s never seen her before. It takes her a good long moment before she snaps her teeth closed and frowns slowly.

“I… I didn’t know,” she murmurs, “I’m surprised.”

Daryl nods once, “I didn’t know either. He jus’ told me, before he disappeared.”

“So she didn’t know?”

Daryl shrugs, “Guess not. Merle said her soulmate had been her sister.”

“I always thought mine would be Sophia,” Carol says, a nostalgic little smile playing about her lips, “The moment they handed her to me I was expecting the shock.”

“Jus’ cause you didn’ feel it doesn’t mean ya didn’ love her,” Daryl offers, unsure if she needs comfort.

Carol laughs, “Of course not. I loved her more than anything. Didn’t feel the lightning they talk about — but god, Daryl, the way those blue eyes looked at me? That felt like nothing I’ve ever heard of.”

They both fall silent. Carol is still running her fingers along the blanket.

Daryl wants to say something else, something stupid like he _understands_ because even without the lightning that runs under his skin every time he touches her, he has never felt anything like this before, has never loved anyone the way he loves Carol. He imagined Sophia had her same eyes and is it any wonder Carol loved her?

 

* * *

 

For the first time in what feels like months, everyone is gathered around the prison block, laughing. It’s not a strategic meeting, no one is in immediate danger. They don’t even have a guard posted — of course, Carol is heading up there the minute the meeting is done, but for now, they are together.

Rick is smiling — it’s strained, but it’s there. Daryl wonders if he’s finally coming back to himself, finally ready to be a father to his new baby. He’s a good man, but Lori’s death nearly snapped him in two.

Surprisingly, it’s Glenn that starts the meeting, “Hey everyone! So, I’m here to be the bearer of some good news. We have repaired all the fences surrounding the yard, and we’re keeping the walker populace down. The fields are all starting to grow, and we’ve even gotten a few potatoes out of the ground. Carol and Sasha have reorganized and inventoried all of our rations, our weapons, and our medicines, and they have informed us that we have a very good stockpile, although it could always be better. Daryl has been hunting and clearing out Cell Block D with my help, and we’ve made pretty good progress.”

Herschel’s smile is wide, “Glenn, this is all great news.”

Rick jumps in, “It’s fantastic. Right now we’re in a position to be building our numbers and recruiting other survivors, which is a scary prospect for everyone, I know. Now, I’ve learned my lesson and we’re not going to go into this blind.”

Tyreese steps forward, “Rick has approached me to lead a recon of the area. We’re looking for small groups of survivors to start. We don’t want to bring in any groups bigger than us that could potentially overpower us. Ideally, we’re looking for small families, couples, pairs. We are going to start by observing them and seeing if they are possible matches for what we’re working towards here.”

“Then Tyreese is going to approach them and offer them a trial run with us here; they are expected to work, as we all do, and in return, there is safety in numbers and shelter behind this wall.” Rick finishes, the old authority he used to have wrapped around him like a cloak surfacing once again.

Daryl’s eyes meet Carol’s across the room. Her fingers tangle together nervously and he nods once to show her he shares her reservations.

“Who else is gonna go with him?” Daryl asks. The room goes quiet at his question, surprised he even said anything.

Tyreese nods slowly, “Daryl’s right, and we’ve talked about this quite a bit. We’d like a girl — strategically, it makes more sense to have both, just in case the survivors don’t trust me. Initially, I was going to take Sasha, because we work well together, but we’re both very new to this group and we didn’t want to rock any boats.”

Sasha interjects, “I’d still be happy to go! But we might have to take a third.”

“Could Maggie go?” Rick turns to find Maggie, sitting behind Beth on the stairs. She looks tired, and a bit pale. Daryl knows the reason why, and he can see Glenn panicking at Rick’s question from where he’s standing.

“No,” Daryl says softly, “I’ll go with ‘em.”

The room is once again felled to silence, but Daryl doesn’t take the words back. Rick nods slowly.

“It does make sense,” he turns to Tyreese, “Daryl is the quietest we have out there — he could track people and watch them without anyone noticing.”

Sasha nods, “He’s also damn good with that crossbow, Ty. I’m good with it.”

Glenn claps once, “Alright, any other objections? Otherwise, we’re going to have Tyreese, Sasha, and Daryl heading out soon to check out the area.”

“I’d like to take turns with Sasha,” Carol interrupts, “if she doesn’t mind.”

Daryl scowls, but he knows he’d be a fool to tell Carol what to do. She’s stronger than half the people in here, and he wouldn’t mind having her at his back. 

Sasha shrugs, “Doesn’t bother me.”

“Alright, that’s it. Any other news?” Rick says, opening the floor for discussion.

Herschel stands up, “The next run we take it would be nice to grab some bed sheets. If we plan on opening Cell Block D and adding people to our group it would be great to have clean bedding.”

“Noted,” Glenn says, scribbling onto a notebook he’s holding.

Rick glances over at Glenn’s work and murmurs, “Add some more vegetable seeds to the list. We want to get as many as we can.”

Carol stands briefly, resting her hand on her knife hilt, “I have been thinking — you know those old style privacy fence slats that people used to have? The kind for chainlink fence?”

“Yeah,” Beth says slowly, “we had it out back around the garden, remember Maggie?”

Carol smiles, “Well I know it would take a ton of it, but it might be something to think about for the future. If the walkers can’t see us inside here they might have less of a reason to come to the fence and lean against it. And if that doesn’t work, maybe plywood or something?”

Daryl smirks at her when she finds his face — he’s damn proud of her. She’s always been resourceful, but the longer they stay here the more she comes out of her shell. Her ideas are always well respected, and it’s no different this time.

“We’ll definitely start thinking about that, Carol. It’s a good idea.” Rick says, his hand coming to rub at the beard growing in, “It would be worth not having to clear the fence every minute of every day.”

The meeting devolves into chatter and Carol slowly picks herself up and heads towards the guard towers. Sasha and Tyreese are talking to Glenn, obviously talking strategy about the mapping of the area and where they’ll go first. Daryl will just follow their lead on the missions and do his job, he’s not really one to plan it.

Instead, he walks over to where Maggie is still perched on the stairs, watching her sister meander across the room to where their father stands. Daryl sits down beside her quietly, taking in the way she’s a bit hunched over but smiling still.

“You feelin okay?” Daryl says softly, quiet enough that the conversation is only for the two of them. 

Maggie glances at him and smiles softly, “Yeah, I’m good. Tired as hell.”

“You let me know what you need,” Daryl says, picking at the seam of his pant leg. Maggie doesn’t say anything for a while and he doesn’t want to look at her, unsure of what he’ll see. It’s the warm hand that rests on his leg for just a second before pulling away that surprises him into looking up.

“I will, Daryl,” Maggie says, “and thank you. Glenn told me what you did. I appreciate it very much.”

Daryl nods his head at her and stands up, ready to escape for the day. Maggie lets him go.

He climbs up to the guard tower, ready to be away from the crowd of people for a moment. he can’t imagine what the prison will be like when they start adding more bodies to the pile, but he’s almost looking forward to it — he’s not sure if he’ll like any new people, but it will be nice to be so surrounded by life. It’s been a long time since that has happened.

Daryl takes the final step into the tower and sees Carol silhouetted in the sunshine of the window, gun resting gently against the wall. She glances back at the sound of his boots on the floor and smiles at him, turning back to her view without speaking. Daryl heads to where she’s standing but sits, pressing his back against the wall to stare outside. After a moment Carol slides down to sit beside him.

She’s warm where her body is resting against his, and she lets her boot flop over to rest on his ankle gently. They sit shoulder to shoulder, and Daryl wishes for just a little more time, more time, more time.

He understands now why people are so afraid to die — how could you leave peacefully with all of these moments left to experience?

“You gonna tell me what’s going on?” Carol murmurs after what seems like a lifetime but is only moments.

Daryl’s heart stops; he thinks about anything that could have given him away, but everything is as it always has been. They have slept in the same bed but _Carol_ started that, not him? He thinks of answering but has no words to explain — how can he explain that lightning sifts under his skin and whispers her name with every pound of his heart; how can he tell her that he has known since the _barn_ and has loved her since before he was born?

“You don’t have to,” Carol continue, “but I know something is going on with Glenn.”

The whole world comes back into focus for a moment. Daryl breathes. It’s the same.

He’s almost regretful.

“Aint my secret,” Daryl murmurs, “if it was, I’d tell ya.”

Carol leans her head over and rests it on his shoulder, “I know you would, Daryl.”

 

* * *

 

Carol is still working on inventory with Sasha by the time Daryl goes to their room. He climbs into his bed and pulls up the soft blanket, and he likes his bed even more now that he can imagine Carol trailing her fingers along his blankets. 

He’s startled awake when his blankets are pulled away and he’s half ready to fight before he sees blue eyes he knows. Carol freezes at his movement and Daryl flops back down.

“Is this okay?” She whispers.

Daryl scoots as close to the wall as he can, leaving her space and inviting her in without words. He can’t trust his voice at this moment, as she willingly crawls under his blankets and into his space. He wants to wrap her in his arms but he’s not sure yet — may never be sure. She lays to face him, eyes tired in the dull light.

“I was talking to Sasha,” she murmurs, “and it sounds like you’re heading out at first light.”

Daryl nods, still trying to blink the sleep away from his brain. He wants to savour every single second of this.

“You’ll be safe out there?” Carol whispers. Daryl frowns at her because she has never questioned this before. She knows he is a survivor, she knows that out of everyone he could keep himself alive.

“O’ course.” 

She finally looks at them and her eyes are endlessly sad, damp with tears. Daryl loves her more than anything, but he wishes he could never see this again — he wants her happy and smiling.

“What?” Daryl’s hand shoots out almost without permission and closes gently on her wrist where it’s nestled against her chest.

Carol sighs, “I’m being foolish. I’ll miss you, is all.”

Daryl finally remembers how to breathe — there are no words strung together more beautiful than those she has just given him. He will be _missed_. 

Bravery flows through his veins and he reaches forward and tugs; she comes easily into his arms, resting her cheek over his thudding heartbeat. Daryl lets his fingers rest on every inch of skin he can find, and he aches.

“I’ll be home soon,” he murmurs. He wants to say more: he will come home to her, he misses her every second he doesn’t see her, he loves, _loves_ her. He has never been a man who is good with words, but Carol doesn’t push.

Her breathing evens out soon after, and Daryl knows he needs to sleep if he is to get an early start, but he can’t make his eyes shut. Walkers could storm the prison and he doesn’t think he’d be able to drag himself away.

Daryl knows he’s dangerous; he learned to fight before he could walk, he can kill animals and people alike with weapons or bare hands. He’s known desperation and starvation, but he has never felt this before.

He will do anything, _be_ anything to keep Carol safe. He will always return to her.


	3. a storm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Carol’s eyes are glittering with laughter and Daryl realizes suddenly that he wants to kiss her. Fuck, he so badly wants to kiss her. For a second Daryl wonders if she knows what she’s doing to him; he stares at her eyes and her smile and, just, all of her. He’s not even touching her and there is electricity under his skin, and Daryl thinks he could run a hundred thousand miles without tiring as long as it was towards Carol.
> 
> He scrambles up because it’s all he can think to do. He needs time to get himself under control, and he doesn’t know if there’s enough time in the world for him to feel like his life hasn’t spiraled out of his hands.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for being so patient with this story. This chapter is a monster and clocks in at just under 10 thousand words.

He has been away for eighteen days. It’s just over two weeks, but in this world filled with death and zombies, it is a lifetime. Anything could have happened in this time.

Sasha and Tyreese are good though, in ways Daryl didn’t predict. They work as a well-oiled machine together, silently communicating and traveling. Daryl fits in seamlessly, and he’s pleased that everyone is pulling their own weight.

They’re kind, too. More so than most people who are still alive are. They check to make sure none of the group is tired, they share the rations they’ve brought. When they find their first pair of survivors they approach them with gentle words and promises of peace.

It makes the fact that Daryl had to shoot one while Tyreese took care of another worse — there is no room in their hearts or the prison walls for those who murder and steal. Sasha took it the hardest. They hadn’t found anyone else for over another week until now.

Daryl has been tracking a woman for two days, and they have finally caught up with her. Tyreese is waiting in the trees as Sasha and Daryl approach, hopeful that this interaction goes better.

They are silent as they travel towards her camp through the trees, and yet when they emerge from the foliage the woman is standing, facing them. Her face is expressionless, but the long sword she holds between them tells them she is prepared to fight. There are two walkers chained to the tree near her, jaws snapped off. Daryl has never seen anything like it.

“We don’t want to hurt you,” Sasha starts, “we’d just like to speak to you.”

The woman quirks a single eyebrow, “Why have you been following me for two days?”

Daryl frowns — she had known they were tracking her?

“We are looking for other survivors. We have a safe space that we are welcoming some people to, and we usually follow anyone first to make sure we aren’t inviting in anyone dangerous.” Sasha’s hands are up as if to pacify, but Derek knows how fast she is getting to her gun.

The woman’s lip twitches, as if she wants to laugh. “So you think I’m not dangerous.”

For the first time Daryl speaks up, “I think yer dangerous alright, but not a murderer.”

The woman inclines her head after a moment, “Okay. Let me hear your pitch.”

Sasha breathes, relieved. “We have a large group of survivors. Women, men, children. We have a solid plan in place for survival, and we’d like to expand our numbers and help out others. We ask that anyone who joins us also pulls their weight; this could mean scavenging, killing walkers, guarding, farming, whatever. Something. No killing people, no endangering the others. You follow our rules and you stay.”

“And if I break them? You make me leave?” The woman asks.

Daryl interrupts Sasha. He’s tired of being away from home and playing nice. This woman is obviously not an idiot. “We kill you, prob'ly. If you fucked up ‘nough to get kicked out we’d kill you.”

“Daryl!” Sasha snaps, “We would not.”

Daryl turns to her, “If she was hurtin’ anyone in our group I’d kill ‘er. So would anyone else.”

Sasha turned back to the woman, and Daryl could almost see the desperation. She wanted this mission to be a success.

“What’s your name? I’m Sasha.”

“And that’s Daryl,” the woman drawled, “I’m Michonne. You might as well invite your other friend out, too.”

Tyreese stepped out within moments, gun pulled but safety still on. He moved to join his sister and eyed Michonne up and down.

“I’m Tyreese.”

Michonne nodded and stared at their mismatched trio for a long time before she finally nodded.

“You said you had kids. At this safe place.”

Sasha nodded warily, “Yes. Only two. One is young.”

Michonne is silent for a long moment, her eyes far away. When Daryl shifts his weight she focuses in again and seems determined.

“I’d like to come with you, but I ask that you’d let me go if I decide to leave within three days.”

Tyreese frowned, “I would have to ask the man in charge. Should be fine.”

“You gotta ditch those… things.” Daryl gestured to the jawless walkers distastefully.

Michonne huffed. “They keep others away with their smell. But if you insist.” Within seconds her sword was up and slicing through the air, and the walkers dropped to the ground. She had her sword wiped and sheathed within seconds of dispatching them.

“For the record,” Michonne murmured as she turned away from the bodies, “if you so much as _think_ about harming me, I will cut you down just as quickly and just as easily.”

Daryl didn’t doubt her for a single second.

 

* * *

 

 

They are finally, finally on the way home. The four of them are huddled in a small cabin they had found, it’s clear from walkers and provides a modicum of protection from the rain Daryl knows is heading their way. None of the group are big talkers, although Sasha has been making a concentrated effort since Michonne joined their party. 

Their silence is broken only by chewing of the last bits of jerky they had brought with them and Tyreese flattening out some type of cloth for sleeping on. Daryl’s on the first watch, and he’s grateful. He’s been on the middle watch for the last two days and he’s exhausted down to his bones. They haven’t let Michonne do any watches alone, but so far Daryl actually likes her. He hopes she fits in at the prison.

“Did you ever have a soulmate?” Sasha asks Michonne quietly, “I know it’s not something you usually ask people. You don’t have to tell me. I’ve never felt the electricity, I’m just curious.”

Michonne nods, “He died.”

“I’m sorry,” Sasha says gently. Daryl doesn’t know why she asked, expecting a different answer. 

“It’s not your fault,” Michonne says, kinder than Daryl would have been in her situation, “the electricity is the second craziest thing I’ve ever felt. The love I felt was the first.” She lays down and turns away after her words, and Sasha doesn’t say anything else to her.

“Maggie and Glenn are soulmates,” Daryl tells her after a while, “You could always talk to them if you wanna know.”

Sasha’s eyes go a bit dreamy, “I wonder if they’re the last ones left.”

“They ain’t,” Daryl says, probably more harsh than he should have. Sasha stares at him curiously.

“Jus’ cause we only got them doesn’t mean others aren’t out there.” Daryl adds, “And also, Carl is Rick’s soulmate, same as Lori was.”

Sasha’s eyes go wide, “I didn’t realize it could be kids?”

Daryl shrugs, “And friends, and relatives. Doesn’t have ta mean love like _that._ ”

He stares resolutely out the window and prays Sasha won’t ask him any other questions. He doesn’t know how long he can talk about soulmates without feeling like his very skin will peel from his body.

God, where is Carol? He hopes she is okay. He thinks he would have felt it if she wasn’t.

 

* * *

 

They roll up to the prison the following day. Daryl has never been happier to see the grey walls and fences, but he can see Michonne tensing him further and further beside him. They had told her it was a prison, but he’d be stressed too if he was in her shoes, finally seeing the foreboding location in person. The fence opens wide like the maw of hell itself and Daryl is ready for any move that Michonne might make suddenly.

He’s not ready for the way she suddenly relaxes in her seat, the sigh escaping her. Daryl stares ahead, curious as to what has finally put her at ease.

It looks the same as he remembers — the corn that Rick had planted is perhaps a little taller, and Daryl can see Herschel working in the field. Carl is holding Judith, off in the distance a bit. Glenn is at the gate, all smiles and excitement at having seen them again. He’s waving and shouting and Maggie is running over to them.

Daryl finally sees it, what Michonne is seeing: family. It’s obvious, now that he knows what to look for; the people all around them are excited they have returned. They obviously care about Tyreese, Sasha, and Daryl. 

It’s a rare thing in this world to have a place to call home, and people that love you.

Daryl gets out of the car and walks around to open the door for Michonne. It’s not a leftover habit of some gentlemanly life, but they had discussed it, and it made sense that Michonne would stick with one of them until everyone was comfortable.

Rick is ready when Daryl turns, Michonne at his side.

“Hey Rick,” Daryl smirks, “this is Michonne. She’s alrigh’ I guess.”

Michonne rolls her eyes at Daryl and then turns very serious and sticks her hand out for Rick to shake, “It’s nice to meet you. I have to say, I didn’t believe a word from these three, but from what I can tell, you all seem decent people. I ask to have three days to get to know you, and I will decide if I want to stay after that. Is that possible?”

Rick frowns for a moment and stares at the sky, squinting a little in the sunshine. He nods slowly, “That’s fair,” he drawls, “but if you are determined to be a threat to our people, don’t think we will hesitate.”

Michonne cracks the first smile Daryl has ever seen from her, “I respect that. Looks like y’all have a good thing here.”

Michonne gets introduced to Glenn next, and Glenn pulls Maggie in by the shoulders easily to introduce her. Maggie looks better than when Daryl last saw her, grinning and laughing at whatever Glenn is saying. Daryl is thrilled to see them, but he’s desperate for a glimpse at Carol. She is nowhere around.

He must look frustrated, because it’s Rick who finally breaks away from the conversation and says, “She’s inside, making some dinner I think. Probably didn’t hear the commotion. Beth’s with her.”

Daryl takes off without another word, hiking his pack over his shoulder. Michonne gapes at him for a moment, but Tyreese and Sasha are still there and Daryl figures he’s played his part by getting her back here.

The prison is cool and dark, and Daryl has never been so happy to see cell walls. Beth is sitting at the small table peeling what looks to be potatoes and she lights up when she sees him. 

“Daryl,” her voice is hushed, “oh, I’m so glad you’re back! Carol just snuck off for a nap, she was on guard tower last night and was tired. You should wake her though, she’ll be thrilled to see you.”

Daryl clasps Beth’s shoulder in thanks and tells her he’s glad to be home. He’s not proud of the way he nearly takes off up the stairs to their cell at a run, but Beth doesn’t make a sound or laugh so Daryl figures it’s their secret. 

He yanks back the sheet, not sure what he’s expecting beyond finally, _finally_ seeing her face.

He’s not disappointed; she is curled up on his bunk — _their bunk_ — sound asleep. She looks a bit more tired than he remembers but still beautiful. God, Daryl’s not sure he’s ever seen anything so beautiful in his entire fucking life.

The steps he takes are silent, and then he’s kneeling beside the bed, settling his pack onto the ground. He’s dirty from being on the road, and every fiber of his being wants to crawl in beside her and Daryl is tough as nails, but he’s not brave when it comes to this. The thought of his welcome, after all these days, is unsure.

Still, when her eyes open he doesn’t know why he hesitated. They are blue and sleepy, and Daryl reaches out without thinking to cup her cheek in his palm. He’s never touched her like this before; with this sense of urgency and belonging. His skin burns where the electricity rumbles, and he welcomes the feeling back like an old friend.

Carol’s eyes clear at the touch and before Daryl can comprehend what’s happening she’s scrambling out of bed and into his arms on the floor. He’s got her wrapped up tightly, her tiny fingers are claws in his vest. They’re sitting on the dusty floor, and Daryl’s pressing his face into her hair, wondering if this is just another dream.

“You’re back,” Carol murmurs into the crook of his neck. Daryl can’t speak for the lump in his throat so he just nods.

After an eternity or just a few minutes, she pulls back, staring at his face. She’s wearing the shirt he got for her. She runs her hands over his arms as if checking for injury. Neither of them speaks. It’s only once her hands rest on his shoulders that Daryl feels like he needs to offer some words, though he half feels as though his brain has turned to mush now that he has her in his arms.

“We found someone,” he says, softly, “she’s nice. Tough. Yer gonna like her.”

Carol’s eyes fill with tears and Daryl almost panics, but she’s swiping her fingers at them before he has the chance and laughing.

“Sorry,” she mutters, “I’m being stupid.”

Daryl snatches her hand and pulls it away, furious and heartfelt, “Yer never stupid.”

Carol grins and tucks herself back into him again, “I missed you.”

The words are just as beautiful as the first time she had said them to him. He has missed her every second of every day he was away, and he has thought of every memory he has to tide him over. He knows the sound of her voice, has every damn word she’s ever spoken to him memorized by now, and if he were to spend every minute of the rest of his life listening to her it would still sound better than all the music of the world.

“No more than I missed ya,” Daryl says, gentle and heartfelt. He’s never done this before, and it shows. Still, Carol is easy in his arms and her expression is nothing but thankful.

She clambers off him and pulls him up to the bed, where they sit shoulder to shoulder. Daryl tells her about their mission, even the hard parts, and she clasps his hand when he tells her he had to kill someone. It is silent for a while before Carol starts in on what’s been happening while he was away.

“The prison has been quiet. Almost peaceful, though I hesitate to say the word for fear of jinxing us,” Carol laughs softly, “the crops Rick planted are all doing well, and Glenn managed to scavenge some pesticides we might use. We don’t know if we want to; Herschel is against it, but we also can’t afford not to have some type of saved food for next winter.”

“Herschel’d probably know best,” Daryl says.

“True. We’ll figure it out, we have time yet. Judith said 'Dada' the other day! That was probably the most thrilling thing that happened while you were away.”

Daryl smirks, “Can’t believe she didn’t say Daryl.”

Carol laughs, “Maybe that’s what she was aiming for, but Rick is positive it was a Dada, not a Daryl. Beth and I were working on canning some food when it happened. Haven’t seen Rick that happy in a long time.”

“It’s good to hear,” Daryl grunts, “he’s had a tough go.”

Carol nods quietly, mourning Lori in their silence. It hasn’t been an easy road to get where they are.

“The other news is,” Carol’s voice is a whisper now, conspiratorial, “and you can’t tell anyone I told you, but I am pretty sure Maggie’s pregnant.”

Daryl wants to believe he keeps a straight face, but he’s never made a practice of lying, and especially not to Carol. He can feel himself staring at the blanket and going red.

“Daryl Dixon,” she gasps, “you _knew_? And you didn’t tell me?”

Daryl sputters, “I didn’ — I wanted to… I jus’-”

Carol laughs and Daryl calms for a moment when he realizes she’s not angry, “Was that the supply run? The one where you just disappeared?”

“Ya,” Daryl breathes, “Glenn asked me. I couldn’t say no, and he said not to tell anyone.”

Carol’s smile makes his heart stop, “So now we have no more secrets.”

She lays her head down on Daryl’s shoulder after that proclamation, and Daryl wants to sink through the floor with the weight of the secret he has. He’s testing words in his brain, trying to figure out the best way to tell her, because whatever else he is, he’s not a liar. And he’s never actually lied to Carol, but he’s not one to split hairs, and lying by omission is just as bad.

It’s a knock at their cell that saves him. Maggie pokes her head in and sees them sitting there. She’s grinning.

“Come down guys, there’s dinner, and Michonne is trying to remember all our names.”

Carol clambers out of the bunk and heads towards the door, Daryl in tow. He’s still struck a bit speechless, but he follows them both down the steps, and Maggie and Carol chat while he hovers silently. He supposes it’s nothing new that he isn’t saying anything.

Everyone is gathered at the main cell and there is more food than Daryl has seen in a while on the makeshift table. Michonne looks a bit shell-shocked, but Daryl has seen firsthand how tough she is, and it will take more than food and good company to truly rattle her.

“Hey everyone,” It’s Tyreese speaking, loud and excited, “this is Michonne. Take it easy on her as she remembers names. For the next few days, we’re posting double guards, one inside and one in the tower. No offense Michonne! I’m the first inside.”

“Second inside,” Rick chimes in.

“Third,” says Glenn.

“I’m first in the tower,” Maggie says, “And I think Beth is taking over after me.”

“I’ll do third,” says Herschel, calm and collected as always, “Now enough business. It looks like we’re all going to get some good food tonight. It’s wonderful to meet you, Michonne. We hope you feel welcome here.”

“Thank you,” Michonne says softly, “I hope so, too.”

Daryl is distracted by Judith after that when Beth brings her over and he can’t help but reach to squeeze her fingers gently and brush her almost strawberry blonde hair. So far Judith looks like neither of her parents nor Shane. Daryl almost thinks it’s a blessing. Easier for everyone to ignore her heritage.

“I heard Lil’ Asskicker here said Daryl,” he says, and Judith lets out a peal of laughter.

Rick is quick to jump in, “Aw, no. Don’t you dare, Daryl. She said dada, and that’s final.”

Daryl smirks, warmth filling him to be around his family once again. He feels as though his heart could burst, and it’s as unfamiliar a feeling as it is a welcome one. He’s never experienced this before, and he never thought it would be possible after the zombie apocalypse.

A plate is pushed into his fingers, and he glances up to see Carol grinning at him in her own way, as though they have some type of inside joke. It’s his favourite smile.

“You looked lost in thought,” she says, “and you’re going to miss out on dinner. Eat up!”

“Thanks,” Daryl says, taking the plate and having a seat on the stairs. Carol joins him and is eating from her own plate when Michonne walks up. She looks wary but pleased, as though she can’t believe what she’s seeing.

“Daryl.” 

Daryl nods at her, “Hey. This here is Carol.”

Carol smiles, “It’s nice to meet you. I’m glad you came back with them.”

“Me too, I think.” She glances up the stairs behind Daryl, “Look, this is going to sound weird, but can I find a cell near yours? It’s just, I mostly trust you… you know?”

Daryl’s surprised, but he supposes it makes sense. She had slept with him guarding her for the last few nights and in a room full of strangers that makes him preferable. She’d probably already asked Tyreese and Sasha, but they had the last unoccupied cell in the downstairs block.

“Sure,” Daryl says, “ours is the first one on the right at the top. It’s got a blue sheet over the door.”

“There’s an empty cell two down from us, or directly across.” Carol chimes in.

Michonne’s eyes flicker in shock for a moment but then settle, “Great. Thanks.”

She walks off and Daryl finishes his food, thrilled to be eating something other than jerky and canned goods. 

“Ours, huh?” Carol’s face is positively mischievous.

“We both sleep there.” Daryl flushes unwillingly.

Carol winks, “I like sharing with you, Pookie.”

“Stop.” Daryl groans, but he can’t help the grin that spreads across his face.

 

* * *

 

 

Michonne chooses the cell two down from theirs in the end. Carol helps clean it up a bit while Daryl tracks down a sheet to hang over her door. Michonne settles her pack into the corner and puts on the clean sheets they bring her. 

After everything is done Carol hands Michonne a water canteen and a few granola bars.

“Keep them in here, sometimes if we have a low food day it’s good to have a snack,” she tells her, “and we have lots of sheet sets that Daryl or Glenn have picked up so don’t be afraid to grab a new set anytime, we can always wash them.”

“Thank you,” Michonne says softly.

Carol grabs Daryl’s arm and they head out the door, but not before Carol extracts the promise that Michonne will come get them if she needs anything. Daryl knows Michonne will never actually act on that promise — she’s similar to him in many ways, and it’s not hard to recognize that she’s used to acting on her own. She won’t ask for help unless she’s exhausted every other avenue.

Daryl kicks off his boots and his vest as soon as they get back in their cell. He hasn’t slept without shoes on in ages, and he’s excited to have even that little comfort again.

Carol pulls her sweater off without preamble, with her back to him, and Daryl nearly falls over. He’s seen her bare skin before, mostly by accident. Travel long enough in the wilderness and eventually, everyone loses a little modesty, but Carol has never done this before. 

She puts on a different baggy shirt and turns back to him. He’s long since flicked his eyes to the floor, but he’s sure his cheeks are stained red. He hears her pants hit the floor, and he doesn’t dare look up. 

When she finally settles on the bed beside him she’s wearing a baggy t-shirt and pajama shorts. He’s never seen her wear them before.

“I ain’t seen you wear pajamas ever,” Daryl mutters.

“I just got tired of sleeping in my battle clothes.” Carol answers.

Daryl can understand that — he’s thought it before, how sad it is that they still live out of their backpacks. 

Now that he’s looking though, Carol’s pack is empty by the shelves. Her clothes are in neat stacks.

“You unpacked.” He states.

Carol looks nervous, and she’s wringing her fingers together, “Yeah. I’m ready.”

Daryl stands and turns to her. He doesn’t really know what she’s asking him, but it feels like a test. He grabs a clean t-shirt from his pack and stares at its softness. It takes more time than he’d like to admit, but he reminds himself that she’s seen his skin before, and the worst she had done was kiss his forehead and tell him that he was every bit as good as everyone else. 

He peels off his shirt and puts the new one on in as few movements as he can. He pulls off his jeans to reveal fairly tattered boxers underneath. Carol is waiting under the covers and watching him with dark eyes. She is terrifying and mystifying and incredible all at once.

Daryl crawls in with her, brushing his skin against her bare skin. They’ve never done this before, for all that they have slept together and become even closer recently. He’s never touched her beyond her arms and her face, and the smooth expanse of her legs is uncharted and terrifying territory.

“Too much?” Carol whispers.

Daryl must look as shell-shocked as he feels, then. He frowns, though, because if anything is too much, it’s the idea that Carol could ever think that she wasn’t perfect.

“Nah,” he murmurs, “it’s good.”

Carol twines a leg between his, pressing her ankles into him. He reaches and snags a hand, wrapping his clumsy fingers into hers. He feels words pressing at his throat, and he’s desperate to tell her everything, but also terrified.

“You wanna know somethin’?” 

Carol’s smile is slow and lazy, “Of course.”

“Today, when we rolled up with ‘Chonne, I was thinkin’ that she got calm real fast, you know? I woulda been ready for anythin’, and she was, but then she jus’ kinda… relaxed?”

Carol shrugs, “She obviously trusts you and Tyreese and Sasha.”

“Nah, it ain’t that,” Daryl says, “it’s what she saw. It’s easy to see it, sometimes, when we’re all together.”

“What?”

Daryl reaches out and brushes some hair away from her face, “We’re a family. I ain’t never had that before. Took me a bit to see it.”

He wants to say more, but he’s already shared more with her than he’s ever shared.

Carol’s eyes look suspiciously damp, but she pulls herself closer and rests her head on his outstretched arm. “Of course we are, Daryl.”

He falls asleep easily for the first time in eighteen days.

  

* * *

 

 

Daryl wakes up with Carol’s hair tickling his face, her head resting over his heartbeat. He’s never been grateful for the world going to shit the way it did until this precise moment, but he knows that he’d never have met Carol in his previous life, he’d never have this. This world is hard and horrible and full of death, but it is also full of miracles.

He pulls his hand up to rest on Carol’s back, and he doesn’t even begrudge her the way his hand tingles from lack of blood flow.

She wakes up slowly, blinking and rubbing her face on his t-shirt. When she finally rolls off she doesn’t stray far but smiles at him from the pillow beside him.

“G’morning,” his voice is gravelly.

Carol is glowing. “Good morning,” she murmurs, “I think I’m late for my watch.”

Daryl frowns, “Yer never late.”

Carol grins, “I know. I’ll have to go now, it’s definitely past sunrise.”

Daryl closes his eyes again, “I’ll bring you breakfast.”

“Take your time,” Carol murmurs. She slips out of bed easily, and Daryl only opens his eyes briefly to see her sling her rifle over her shoulder and head out of their door. He falls back into sleep like he never left.

The next time he opens his eyes he feels more rested than he has in ages, and he clambers out of bed much less gracefully than Carol had. He goes downstairs to get some breakfast, happy that he has nothing to do today since he’s just returned from his long scouting mission.

He runs into Maggie as he’s making a small plate for Carol in the kitchen. Maggie is humming as she walks in, and she looks healthy. It’s a good look.

“Hey,” he grunts.

Maggie beams, “Hey! Are you taking Carol breakfast?”

Daryl shrugs, but its fairly obvious from the two portions of everything he has in his hand.

“She’ll be thrilled. She missed you.”

Daryl flushes and rolls his eyes. He’s come a long way on the emotional front since joining this group, but he still doesn’t love the idea of talking his feelings out.

“Make sure you say hi for me! I’m supposed to be taking over her shift after lunch.” Maggie waltzes away and Daryl half-smiles as she goes, happy despite himself because it’s a good thing when one of their own is doing so well.

He can’t wait to have another kid around the prison — Daryl’s not much into babies, but there’s something nice about Lil Asskicker having someone to play with, of having safety and growth inside their walls.

The stairs up to the guard tower take him longer than usual with his full hands. The ladder for the final stretch is more of a challenge than Daryl would like to admit, but he clambers into the room eventually, and Carol turns at the sound.

She smiles when she sees him, and Daryl can’t imagine a world where he would ever tire of people being _happy_ to see him. It’s still a foreign notion to him, and every single time Carol lights up when she sees him is extraordinary, treasured.

“I brought food,” Daryl mutters and goes to sit by her.

They eat in silence, legs casually nudging against one another. The prison is quiet today, celebratory with Michonne’s entrance and everyone’s return. Rick is toiling in the fields with Herschel, and it looks as though Michonne is watching them. Glenn is nowhere to be seen, but neither is Tyreese, so Daryl bets they are trying to clear out one of the other prison sections so it can be habitable. 

“I think we should try and find a single bed.” Carol says, “To put beside ours and make it bigger.”

Daryl lets the words tumble around his head for a moment, shocked. Words like ‘we’ and ‘ours’ and ‘bed’ fit like jagged edges in his mind. It takes him time, but Carol never rushes, never pushes, and god, he _wants_.

He imagines a world where they have a large bed, covered in soft blankets, and a window that lets in sunlight. He imagines for a moment that they don’t live in a prison, and he gets Carol safe and washed in golden sunlight, and Daryl has never been considered a daydreamer before, but he feels lost in that thought for a thousand years.

Sadly, it’s a prison they’re in, and it’s zombies and death all around them, but Daryl has never been so thrilled over the prospect of a _bed._

“Alright,” he says because it’s all he can say. He can feel his ears going red.

Carol’s eyes are glittering with laughter and Daryl realizes suddenly that he wants to kiss her. Fuck, he so badly wants to kiss her. For a second Daryl wonders if she knows what she’s doing to him; he stares at her eyes and her smile and, just, all of her. He’s not even touching her and there is electricity under his skin, and Daryl thinks he could run a hundred thousand miles without tiring as long as it was towards Carol.

He scrambles up because it’s all he can think to do. He needs time to get himself under control, and he doesn’t know if there’s enough time in the world for him to feel like his life hasn’t spiraled out of his hands.

Carol doesn’t even say bye, just smirks as he disappears as quickly as he came.

 

* * *

 

He doesn’t really need to apologize for disappearing on her. Carol knows him better than he knows himself most days, but he still feels a bit weird about just bailing when she brought up the bed.

It’s also not helpful that Daryl has the day off — a fact he had revelled in only hours prior but now despises. He’s not built for sitting still.

His crossbow and knife are easy to grab and he’s off into another Cell Block without a moment’s hesitation. He keeps his eyes and ears sharp in case he ends up running into Glenn, but he has a feeling they went into Cell Block A and he’s in C. The prison itself is nearly empty of walkers inside, with a few exceptions inside locked cells. They had worked hard to clean out the majority of the cell blocks and make sure there were no weak links between each of them that could put them at risk.

Daryl only finds three walkers in the whole block, and he checks every room he finds. He makes a note to tell Rick that they could open this cell block within a week if everyone took some time and did a thorough sweep together. It has a lot more living space than their current block; it seems like the full cafeteria and entertainment room was on this block.

Daryl finds a single bed in what seems to be a solitary room easily and starts taking what he can apart. He strips the sheets and beats the hell out of the mattress to get rid of any dust that has built up. The frame is simple to pull into two pieces, and Daryl carts both of them back to the entrance one by one, his dagger in one hand just in case. The mattress is harder, only because he struggles to navigate through the halls and keep alert. It’s impossible to have his weapons out for this one, but Daryl feels fairly confident that nothing will jump out at him.

By the time he has everything stacked against the door that will take him back to his cell block, he’s dripping sweat and hungry, but happy he’s almost done. He leaves his work for a bit and scouts out their Cell Block and finds that no one is in the common area, so he hurries to move the bed. 

It’s not that he’s embarrassed exactly, but he doesn’t want anyone to comment or make Carol uncomfortable. It’s a new thing, and they’re not… together, but they’re not _nothing_ either. Daryl isn’t willing to let anything jeopardize what he’s got right now.

He manages to get the whole bed in their room and set up before he hears anyone downstairs. It sounds as though he missed lunch, which means that Carol is no longer on watch. Briefly, he wonders where she could be, but he isn’t particularly worried. Carol hates sitting still about as much as he does.

Daryl hits the freezing showers the prison has with relish. It’s been a while since he had running water, no matter how cold, and he feels grimy from his morning. His hair is getting long, and he knows soon Maggie will start pestering him to get a haircut until he finally gives in. 

He snags some new clean sheets on his way back to the room, but when he swings the makeshift door aside Carol has already returned.

She’s sitting on the new mattress looking bemused and fond, and Daryl tries to imprint the expression on his brain because it’s one he’s never seen before and he wants to know all of Carol’s expressions.

She smiles at him, “Didn’t think you’d come around to the idea so quickly.”

Daryl flushes and tries to roll his eyes to cover it, “had nothin’ to do today. Seemed smart.”

Carol stands and walks close to him, slow and gentle as if she was approaching something wild and feral. She wasn’t wrong.

“It’s good, Daryl,” she murmurs when she’s standing right in front of him. Her eyes are sparkling, and they are more beautiful than all the things Daryl has ever seen. He rubs his hand on the back of his neck, a bit lost for words.

Carol slips into his space easily and wraps her arms around his ribs loosely, pressing only briefly before pulling away. He wants to wrap himself around her and press her into him until she becomes one with him, keep her so close to his skin that he will never be able to untangle himself from her.

“Thank you,” she says, and he is lost to her. 

“Ain’t nothin’,” he tells her, “anytime.”

Carol smirks and starts putting the sheets on the new bed, and Daryl forces himself to disappear again before he says something stupid.

 

* * *

 

In the end, it isn’t him who has to say something stupid. They’re all gathered for dinner, some type of thick stew Maggie and Beth created. It’s hearty and delicious, and none of them are so far removed from a time when they were starving and their ribs stuck out like broken puzzle pieces inside their chest, and they savour every single morsel. Daryl is sitting on the edge of the table, watching his family interact with each other. It’s loud and joyful, and it’s like nothing Daryl has ever had before he suddenly had it at the end of the world with this random assortment of people.

Rick is gesturing with his hands, and he’s smiling, which is something that only Carl and Judith have been able to drag out of him since Lori’s death. It’s nice to see. Michonne is watching Beth hold Judith, and Daryl comforts himself with the fact that she already looks like she’d be willing to put a sword through anyone that threatened the baby. She looks half in love with her already.

Maggie clears her throat loudly and waits till Rick stops gesticulating and stares at her. Everyone has fallen silent, and Maggie is blushing furiously until Glenn finally stand beside her. He’s practically vibrating with excitement, and Daryl counts back the weeks in his head until he realizes that they’re about to change _everything_ again.

Maggie clears her throat again, awkwardly, and Beth looks as though she’s about to laugh at any second, until finally, Maggie glares hard enough that she finds her words, “We have some news to share,” she starts, “but Glenn and I thought we should tell you all now.”

Rick looks a little pale, but he nods as Maggie starts to lose her steam. She blows out her breath heavily for a moment and then says: “I’m pregnant.”

There is a vast silence in which Daryl wonders if everyone is going to lose their minds. It’s hard for them because Lori was not so long ago that they have forgotten the dangers. Still, Daryl thinks of Judith, and he knows it’s good. He knows that even Lori knew it was good.

The silence stretches so long that Daryl finds himself standing up, almost not of his own volition, and he reaches across the table and shakes Glenn’s hand.

“Congrats, man,” he says, and his voice sounds as though it’s been dragged over gravel, “it will be an honour to be the favourite uncle again.”

Rick bursts into welcome laughter and even Glenn pretends to be affronted. Herschel is slyly wiping at his eyes and Daryl half-smirks. Maggie is beaming at him with pure gratitude, and Daryl would basically like to sink into the floor.

Still, the silence has been broken, and suddenly everyone is congratulating Maggie and Glenn and hugging them. Beth is crying, but Daryl thinks that perhaps for the first time in a long time she’s crying out of happiness.

He sits quietly again and is happy to let himself be quiet in the face of all the celebration. Carol is hugging Glenn, and Tyreese has Maggie in a big bear hug.

Soon things quiet down, and Glenn sobers a little. “We know it’s frightening, and we are scared. But things seem good, Maggie looks to be about two maybe three months along. We have a lot of the stuff we need already, and we’ve been fairly secure here. I don’t want to jinx anything, but we’re hopeful that this could be something good.”

Rick’s smile is a little strained, but his voice is warm and proud, “Glenn and Maggie, this already _is_ something good. It’s wonderful.”

Everyone devolves into quiet conversation again, and after a while, Rick says he’s off to take watch. It’s a load of shit, Daryl knows, but he also understands the man’s need for a bit of solitude after the bombshell that was just dropped on him. Carl follows not long after, and Daryl thinks it’s probably best that his son is the person to comfort him.

“Is he okay?” Michonne asks Sasha quietly, who has been fairly somber throughout the meal.

Sasha shrugs, “He’s good. His wife — Lori — she passed away recently.”

Michonne sighs; the kind of weary sigh that someone who is used to losses understands, “Damn. Walkers?”

“Childbirth,” it’s Maggie’s quiet voice that answers, “we saved Judith, but not her.”

Michonne’s eyes close painfully, “I’m sorry to hear that.”

The table is quiet and mournful, “We were nervous. To tell him, after all, that.” Maggie says, “But he took it well.”

“He loves Judith,” Carol says, her voice a bit sharp, “and he would never disrespect Lori by thinking that her death was pointless. He’s thrilled for you guys, don’t doubt that.”

Glenn nods, “We know. It’s just tough on him. I can’t imagine losing a soulmate.” He glances at Maggie, and devotion and agony war on his face, as if just voicing the fear has given him unimaginable pain.

Michonne’s face could be carved out of stone for all the expression it holds, “I can. I wouldn’t wish it on anyone.”

Sasha flushes, “I am very sorry I brought that up when we first found you.”

Michonne waves her apology away, “It’s fine. You didn’t know.”

Everyone is watching in rapt attention, and Michonne finally sighs and tells the story of her husband's death. She’s leaving out details, it’s obvious to everyone, but the gist is familiar to everyone anyway. He got bit trying to save someone, and that was the end. Michonne doesn’t say who took care of him, but Daryl doesn’t need to ask.

He doesn’t want to think it, but unbidden the thought of having to kill Carol, even as a walker comes to his brain. Daryl admires Michonne’s strength, and he knows he could do it too, but he also knows he wouldn’t be able to continue on like Michonne does.

He’s not sure if he respects her more for it or less. Survival has always been something that he’s been good at, but the thought of leaving Carol, even for a second, is so repulsive that he immediately recoils.

Glenn looks a bit nauseous himself, “Michonne, I’m so sorry.”

Michonne nods at his apology, “It’s not your fault. Anyway, usually people always ask about the soulmate thing. People are curious, you know?”

“I was,” Sasha confirms, half laughing and half embarrassed.

“It’s normal,” Michonne shrugs, “but I don’t know why you asked me when you’ve got Maggie and Glenn and Daryl.”

Daryl’s heart stops for a moment, and out of the corner of his eye he can see the way Beth whips around to stare at him, and Carol stiffens almost imperceptibly. He doesn’t know what to say or do, and he slowly raises his gaze to rest on Michonne, who seems unaware of what she’s done.

Glenn is gaping at him, and Maggie looks resigned, and Daryl almost wants to thank her for actually keeping his secret. It’s obvious Glenn didn’t know.

“Dude, you had a _soulmate_? Did they die?” Glenn is shocked, and Daryl tells himself that’s the reason that he would be so insensitive to ask _that_ , but Daryl still uses the opportunity to stand up and shoot him his angriest look.

Michonne looks bewildered, and she glances at Carol as if to see where she made a mistake, but Carol is staring at the table. She looks so hurt that Daryl actually wants to die, and he knows that he should have _told her_ but how in the hell was he supposed to say anything like this out loud?

“I — maybe I was mistaken, I didn’t—” Michonne’s voice is unsure, and Daryl walks away before she gets the chance to finish the sentence.

He finds himself in the furthest corner from the guard tower and plants himself against the shed that they store most of their gardening stuff in. There are a few walkers about, but they’re mostly wandering around on the other side of the fence, probably drawn to Rick and Carl talking in the guard towers. The sun has just gone down and it’s fairly dark, but it’s a warm temperature and a nice night. Daryl wishes he could enjoy it. Hell, he wishes he had a smoke just for something to do with his shaking hands.

It doesn’t take her long to find him, but in that time he’s thought of a thousand ways to apologize and tell her the truth, but none of them really work in his brain, and he can’t imagine actually saying them out loud.

Of course, because it’s Carol she doesn’t make him say anything. She leans against the old shed next to him and waits him out. Daryl thinks she’d wait all night if he needed her to, but he’s tired of making her wait, and he’s tired of causing her problems when he wishes he could shoulder them all.

“They’re wrong, ya know,” Daryl says, “she ain’t dead.” It wasn’t what he meant to lead with, but it’s been nagging him, the way Glenn had said _‘you had a soulmate?’_ as if she was gone. Carol was right here, breathing and healthy, and Daryl refuses to even live in a world where someone thought she wasn’t.

Carol’s breath catches and he wants to bite his own tongue off because he doesn’t know what to fucking say.

“I’m sorry—” Daryl rushes to spit out, “I wanted to tell ya. It’s just… hard.”

Carol turns to him and her eyes look damp and how in the fuck is Daryl supposed to fix this? “I get that, I do, but… I just thought—”

Daryl has never actually understood the term heartbreak before, but he gets it now because it feels like his heart is cracking inside his chest, and he’s not sure if it’s because she’s his soulmate, or because he loves her — and _fuck_ he loves her so much.

“It’s you.” He rushes out and then trips over his own words because Carol’s eyes have narrowed on him, shocked and disbelieving.

“What?” Her voice is very quiet, and very even, and Daryl has only heard her like this before they go into battle.

“It’s you,” Daryl repeats, slower this time, “it’s always been you. Since the — since the day at the barn. When I grabbed you to stop you.”

Carol sinks a little deeper into the shed as if she needs help standing. “You felt it? The electricity they talk about?”

Daryl nods, “Like nothin’ I ever felt before.” 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Her voice is so hurt, so hurt.

Daryl wrings his fingers, “I shoulda, I shoulda, but I knew you didn’, I knew you didn’ feel it, and I just couldn’t.” He breathes, “You weren’t… ready, either.”

It’s unfair of him, to bring up how fragile she had been after Sophia, but it’s also a damn good reason for keeping his mouth shut for some of the time.

Carol is silent for a long time and Daryl lets her have her time. 

“Alright,” she says finally, “I understand that. But, Daryl, since we’ve been here? Since we’ve been…” she lets herself trail off, a bit shaky, and Daryl hates that he’s inspired this insecurity in her.

He turns to her, and meets her eyes, and summons every ounce of bravery he has. “Since we’ve been here I been an idiot, and you gotta know, even without all of this shit,” he gestures between them as though she can suddenly see the electric bond that only he can feel, “it’s you and I. I ain’t tryin’ to keep secrets from you, but somethin’ this big… I didn’t see how I could say it and keep you, especially since you don’t…”

“I don’t _what?”_ her voice is angry.

Daryl swallows, “You don’t feel it.”

Carol’s eyes are disbelieving and furious, and Daryl prefers her anger to her heartbreak, but he’s still not sure how he’s ever supposed to get back to the way she was looking at him this morning. He wonders if he’ll ever wake up to her again, and he wants to die at the thought that he didn’t pay enough attention this morning. What if he forgets a single detail?

“You think I don’t _feel_ anything because I don’t have some stupid lightning strike soulmate _bond_?” Her voice is coiled tight, “You’re telling me that I loved Sophia _less_ than Rick loves Carl because she wasn’t my soulmate?”

Daryl rears back because he was not expecting that at all. He knows Carol loved, loves, will love Sophia more than anyone else in this universe, and he knows that he cannot measure the difference between Rick and Carol’s love for their respective children because it is _endless_. He doesn’t know how to tell her this.

In the calmest voice he can muster he says, “I never said that. I ain’t never said you don’t feel things, Carol. All I said was I didn’ know how to tell you that I had some ‘stupid lightning strike soulmate bond’ to _you_ ,” he throws her own words back at her, and it’s a dirty move, but it hurt to hear her say something like that, “and that you didn’ have the same thing back for _me_.”

He pushes off the shed and turns back to her, still leaning against the wood and watching him with blue eyes that he wants to bury himself in.

“You loved Sophia more than anythin’, right?” Daryl says, “Now imagine that you had a secret so big that you were afraid she’d hate you over it. You figure it’s better to have her and love her and never let her know the secret than tell her. Even if it means yer lying, even if it means it’s not perfect. She’s still yours.”

Carol is staring at the ground, and it’s obvious she’s crying, and Daryl has never hated anything more than he hates this moment. 

“I would do anythin’ for you,” Daryl says, because if he’s going to lay his soul bare to her he might as well fucking get it over with, “and that won’t change. Not because some stupid lightning strike told me to — not because you’re my soulmate. Because I’m in _love_ with ya.”

He’s started to walk away to give her space when he hears her peel herself off the wall.

“You don’t think that this bond made you feel that way?” Carol’s voice stops his moving.

Daryl thinks — he legitimately stops and thinks it over. He has wondered if he would have loved Carol before he knew she was his soulmate.

The answer is written in his bones, it’s a part of his DNA, and it’s not because of some stupid fucking bond, as she so aptly put it.

“No,” Daryl says, sure. “Merle didn’ love Andrea. Lori didn’ love Shane. Herschel didn’ love his soulmate, he loved Maggie’s mom, who was his wife.” Carol’s breath skips on that one, and Daryl realizes that Maggie never told Carol that story.

“You’re sure?” Her voice is small and scared, and Daryl almost wants her to go back to angry.

He turns again, because he can’t walk away from her, not anymore, probably not ever. “I ain’t never been more sure of anythin’ in my life.”

Carol stares him down and Daryl doesn’t move a goddamn muscle. He’s been trying to make himself worthy of her every second of every day since he knew her and he knows he’s not there, but she can have all of it.

“I never wanted to feel it,” Carol says, finally.

Daryl frowns, “the bond?”

Carol nods, “Maybe when I was young, before Ed. But then… well, everything happened. And I used to pray and pray that I would never feel the bond, never be trapped again. Never be _forced_ to do anything, even love, again.”

Daryl suddenly realizes why she’s so angry and hurt. He wonders why he never thought of it before; but, it’s hard to picture this bond as anything so horrible as she is describing to him. She thinks he didn’t have a _choice_.

“I never really thought I’d feel it,” he tells her, an olive branch in a night gone horribly, horribly wrong, “didn’t expect to have a soulmate. Never expected to have you.”

She steps towards him, bridging the endless gap that Daryl thought would never close. She’s still too far, out of his reach, but he can see the freckles on her cheekbones, and it is enough.

“When did you know?” 

Daryl frowns, “That day at the barn—”

She interrupts him, “No. Not that. When did you know you…” she can’t force herself to say the next words, but Daryl has caught on.

“You ‘member when I found you? In that storage closet when everyone thought you were dead?”

She nods. That was a long time ago. Daryl doesn’t bother telling her that although he knew he loved her then, but he’s pretty sure he’s been in love with her since the moment he saw her. Before he ever touched her skin.

Daryl shrugs, “Since then.”

Carol steps forward again, bringing herself into his reach, although he doesn’t move. He can feel his heart about to beat out of his chest as if it wants to join hers.

“You know when you left on that supply run? When I was mad at you?” She says. Her voice is barely more than a whisper on the breeze.

Daryl nods, “Yeah. You thought I left you behind. I’d never.”

Carol smiles, and it’s small and fleeting, but she finally, finally meets his eyes. “Since then.”

Daryl replays her words in his brain, trying to make sense of them. She looks scared and timid in a way he hasn’t seen her since the farm, and he doesn’t want to fuck this up.

“You…?”

She nods, “Yes.”

He steps forward, bringing his chest close enough to brush against hers, close enough their noses could touch if he only bent down.

“You’re sure?” He says, breathing the words more than speaking.

Finally, her eyes light up, warm and teasing, and she drawls out in a poor butchered attempt at his accent, “I ain’t never been more sure of anythin’ in my life, Daryl Dixon.”

He kisses her, then.

Daryl never thought he’d be the one to kiss her first, but he does, just swoops down and presses his mouth against hers as if he’s done it every day for his entire life.

And he does plan to do it every day for the rest of his life.

She raises on her tiptoes and threads her arms around his neck, and Daryl kisses her like his life depends on it, and maybe it does.

The lightning is throbbing under his skin, and Daryl wonders at how she can’t _feel_ that. Still, when he pulls away from her she is staring at him as though he’s glowing, and he has a feeling he’s doing the same thing to her.

“Everyone thinks you’ve run off because your soulmate is dead and that’s why you’re such an ass sometimes,” Carol says, and he just lifts one arm to rest his thumb under her eye, sweeping it against the skin of her face. She closes her eyes at his touch, and Daryl doesn’t even care that she called him an ass.

“You ain’t dead!” Daryl says the only response that really matters.

Carol laughs, “I knew you didn’t like it when Glenn said that.”

Daryl rolls his eyes, “Glenn’s an ass.”

Carol grins at him, and he tightens his arms around her. She says, “I love you” like it’s easier than breathing.

Daryl thinks that even if he lives to be a hundred he will never be able to get the sound of those words out of his head, and he never wants to. He has never heard anything so beautiful. He wants to breathe them in, and wake up to them. 

“I love you,” he says, because it’s the truth, and Carol deserves every truth from him from now on.

The smirk she sends his way is pure wickedness and she winks, “I _knew_ it was a good idea to get the big bed.”

Daryl flushes and rolls his eyes, “stop.”

Carol leans further into his body, “No, I don’t think I will.” 

He can’t help but kiss her then, and it’s a long time before they make their way back to the quiet prison. Only Maggie is awake with Judith, and Daryl wonders if Maggie was brilliant enough to plan it that way. He’s grateful, because she doesn’t ask any questions, and Daryl nods at her as he passes.

He’s going to get that woman any shit she wants for her baby, he owes her so much.

Carol pulls their cell door open and Daryl lifts the sheet up so she can come in after him. Carol doesn’t hesitate to slide into her pajamas and hurry into their newly made double bed, and Daryl follows a bit slower.

She curls close to him as soon as he gets in, and he savours every second because it wasn’t so long ago that he wondered if he fucked all of this up.

“I thought we wouldn’ get back here,” Daryl whispers into her hair.

Carol sniffs, “You said you’d always come back to me.”

“Guess I did.”

It’s not perfect, but nothing really is in this world, anymore. 

It’s good though. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please, kudos or comment if you enjoyed :)

**Author's Note:**

> If you enjoyed, please drop me a line to let me know :)


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